


130 Logurt Prompts

by crow821



Category: X-Men, logurt - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:25:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crow821/pseuds/crow821
Summary: I found a writing prompt table here: http://undefinedromance89.deviantart.com/art/130-Writing-Prompts-81983182 and will be posting up Logurt fills for it.No beta, so read at your own risk.





	1. Lock

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Angst.

**Lock:**  
  
“Logan, let me in”  
  
    Logan ignores him, and leaves the door locked.  
  
    It’s not like the lock could stop Kurt anyway, the man’s a teleported after all. But the elf would never intrude without invitation. That’d be too impolite for him. Instead he waits just outside the door, close enough that Logan can hear him breathing.  The night’s so quiet around them that if he listens carefully enough he can just make out the steady beat of his friends heart. Most nights that sound lulls him to sleep. Now every beat sounds like a accusation.  
    He listens anyway.

  
  
“I know you can hear me.”  
  
    Logan ignores him and turns to face the window, the night air that creeps through chilling his bare skin. He’s gotten used to Kurt’s warmth beside him, with all that fur the kid’s a damn furnace. Now Kurt’s side of the bed is empty and cold, and even though he hasn’t slept in days, Logan is glad.

  
  
“I’m not leaving”  
  
    This is the third night they’ve played this out. Kurt’s nothing if not stubborn. The last two nights he stayed until dawn, only leaving when the others in the faculty wing start to stir. He sounds as exhausted as Logan feels, and more than anything Logan wishes he would leave, and rest. Anywhere but here.

  
  
“Please.. Shatz..”  
  
    With his hearing there‘s no way he could miss the hitch in his lovers voice. Not that he’s trying. He listens carefully to ever pained syllable, memorizing the sound of it. He listens, and breaths in deep, able to scent Kurt on his sheets even three days out. He ignores the familiar, the comforting smell of fur and Kurt's shampoo, and instead focuses on the copper tang coloring it. The scent of blood never really fades, but he refuses to change the sheets. He doesn’t want to forget.

  
  
“It wasn’t your fault. Your dreams..”  
  
    Logan doesn’t need him to finish that sentence. He knows what his dreams are full of. Blood and violence and every awful thing he’s seen in his long, long life. And when he’s dreaming all this, the mansion, the kids, Kurt, all of it falls away, leaving him nothing but the rage. And when he wakes he brings it back with him.

  
  
“Logan please...”  
  
    In the hallway Kurt leans his head back against the door, closing tired eyes and  wishing he could sleep. He has his own room, even if he never uses it anymore. But that would mean leaving Logan alone in there, and that he will never do. No matter what happens. So he just  sighs and sits up a little straighter,  
rubbing absently at the bandage wrapped carefully around his upper arm. It still aches, but it will heal soon enough.

  
  
“It was just a scratch.”  
  
    Logan ignores him, and leaves the door locked.


	2. Paper Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found a writing prompt table here: http://undefinedromance89.deviantart.com/art/130-Writing-Prompts-81983182 and will be posting up Logurt fills for it.
> 
> No beta, so read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Playing fast and loose with religion.  
> I have a whole head-cannon for this one, but this is probably all that will ever come of it.

  
    The preacher shows up on a Tuesday, with little more than the clothes on his back. It’s a day later than Xavier told them to expect him, but international travel’s hard to peg down, even for a telepath.  
  
    Logan’s out in the garage working on his bike at the time. He keeps it in good enough shape that it rarely needs much in the way of repairs, but Summers had come around the other day bragging about some new gizmo Forge had come up with to triple his miles per gallon, and damned if he‘d let one-eyes bike outrun his.  
  
    He thinks he’s just about got the little contraption rigged up right when he hears an unfamiliar car pull up the drive. He straightens, wiping his hands on a rag and watching the preacher climb out of the car Xavier must have sent out for him.  
  
    Not much to see. The guy’s bundled up in a long sleeve shirt and gloves despite the summer heat, a ball cap pulled low on his head and dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. He’d look like one of those celebrities trying to avoid the paparazzi, if not for the bit of skin showing at his jaw line, strikingly blue even from how far off Logan stood.  
  
    He watched him get his single duffel bag out of the trunk and then head up the walk to the front door. For a moment the newcomer paused, took a deep breath like he was gearing up for something difficult, and then went on up to knock on the door. Logan lost sight of him after that, and went back to his bike.  
                -----------------------------------------  
  
    Logan tried to ignore the inevitable gossip he hears throughout the day. He catches some of the kids in his morning PE class speculating that since the newcomer knows Xavier, he must have been one of the original X-Men, sent off to Siberia for not listening to Cyclops during a mission. Logan points out that Germany is not Siberia and makes them run laps for daring to suggest one-eye has ever been worth listening to.  
  
    Over lunch he’s forced to listen to Bobby’s theories about the whole thing being an Illuminati plot to keep mutants out of the church. Somebody else has the good sense to point out that if it was the church that made him a priest in the first place, it’s a pretty bad plot to begin with. But when Bobby starts in on his ‘well then it’s aliens’ theory Logan leaves anyway. They’ve met aliens, and the last thing they care about is a bunch of bible thumpers in penguin suits.  
  
    He hears later that Xavier makes a pretty good welcome speech over dinner, but he spends the evening at Harry’s and misses it. Somebody leaves the ancient TV above the bar on CNN and he can’t avoid hearing at least part of the mess the media‘s making of it all. They’ve got the parents on one side, weepy and thankful, and some religion expert on the other side going on about how ‘seal of confession’ trumps human lives. Logan’s heard quite enough of angry people spouting off about religion before, so he’s got no objections when Harry switches it over to the game instead.  
  
    Logan doesn’t make it back to the mansion until late that night, claiming the abandoned rec-room as his own and finding a rerun of some old western to watch. Leans back with a grateful sigh that the kids have finally gone the fuck to sleep, and tosses the remote over on the side table. There’s a paper left there, one of those tabloid rags you see at the truck stops. Probably Bobby’s. It’s got their new preacher on the front page, and he picks it up for the picture alone. It looks like they caught the guy coming out of a courthouse, gloved hand raised against the camera. It doesn’t hide anything, without the glasses the eyes and fangs are impossible to miss.  It looks like he‘s either pissed off and snarling, or really surprised, and Logan doesn’t have to read further to guess which version the tabloids went with.  
  
     A soft noise from the doorway breaks his attention and he looks up to see the man himself standing there watching him. The eyes are still startling, glowing bright yellow in the low light from the television. But it’s hard to match the tabloid photo to the polite, accented voice that points out,  
      
    “It was not as they say.” those yellow eyes flicker to the paper and back, and it’s weird how much hurt can show in eyes that don’t even have pupils.  
  
    Logan set the paper aside, not looking at it again. Instead he picks up his beer and suggests;  
   
“Then why don’t you tell me how it is.”


	3. Award

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found a writing prompt table here: http://undefinedromance89.deviantart.com/art/130-Writing-Prompts-81983182 and will be posting up Logurt fills for it.
> 
> No beta, so read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fluff in this one.

  
    “What’s that?”  
  
    Kurt looked up from the piece of construction paper he was holding, his dark face uncharacteristically solemn. He’d been sitting on the bed staring at the thing since Logan had gone in to shower. And as the older mutant had just got back from going up against a dozen ninjas set on taking over Boston, that had been quite a while ago. Saving the day was dirty work when your mutant power involved stabbing guys. Repeatedly.  
  
    Instead of answering his question, Kurt leaned forward to hand whatever it was over. It looked like one of those ribbons they used to give out at county fairs (back when there was enough country left to have fairs), if made entirely out of blue construction paper. Someone had written “Number 1” in careful marker on the front.  
      
    “Jacob Sadler gave it to me today” Kurt said with a fond smile. Jacob was one of the group of mutant kids Kurt had taken a shine to over the last few semester, kids with mutations just as visible as his own, most of whom had looked that way since birth. Unfair how so often the ones that looked the strangest had to put up with the whole ‘mutant in a world that hares and fears them’ the longest.  
      
    “He’s the one with the blue scales? What’d you do, beat him at wall crawling?” Logan joked as he handed it back. Kurt and the kid had similar powers, it seemed like every time they were together they were climbing up something or other, ignoring gravity completely and making everyone with even a little fear of heights extremely nervous.  
      
    Kurt shook his head, and when he looked up again Logan couldn’t tell if his friend was going to cry, laugh, or both.  
      
    “No. He made it for me in one of his classes. They were supposed to make an award for someone that mattered to them. He said he thought I should have it, because I went first, so children like him had somebody to follow.”  
  
    Logan sat down beside him and said nothing, just wrapped an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and giving him a few moments to collect himself.  
  
    “I think I’ll have it framed” Kurt said finally, flashing Logan a grin that looked at least a little more like his usual cheerful self. His eyes were still a little too bright, but at least he was smiling.     “Anyway! What did you do today schatz?”   
      
    Logan opened his mouth to tell him about kicking a massive amount of ninja ass, saving the city, walking away from the explosion at the end of the whole mess without ever looking back, and then shrugged of the question instead.  
  
    “Nothing important”


	4. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found a writing prompt table here: http://undefinedromance89.deviantart.com/art/130-Writing-Prompts-81983182 and will be posting up Logurt fills for it.
> 
> No beta, so read at your own risk.

There are times when Logan’s mutant ‘gifts’ are nothing but a pain in the ass.  
  
    Like when the blare of his alarm jolts him awake in the morning, so loud to his sensitive ears that he claws it before he even realizes what it is. It’s the fourth one this month. He thinks the housekeepers must buy them in bulk at this point.  
  
    Or when he steps out of his room into the hallway, pointedly ignoring the conversations of his fellow teachers through the walls, the sounds of them getting ready for the day, the sound of Emma and Scott doing.. (not hearing that, not hearing that, Really does not want to be hearing that) .. whatever.  
  
    Or the endless noise of the kids cell phones throughout the rest of the mansion, constant in every class he teaches, buzzing and beeping until he’s so irritated he tosses the nearest one out the window. Chuck won‘t be happy about having to replace another smartphone, but at least the rest of the class turns them off.   
  
    Or lunch, when he stumbles into a pre-field trip crowd and has to fight through a half dozen teenagers, all of them loud and excited  and he’s pretty sure one of the senior boys bathed in Axe, just to grab himself a sandwich and the last of the coffee. One of his history students tries to ask him something on his way out but he doesn’t stop. Not because he doesn’t care, but because there’s no way he could focus over all that noise long enough to answer. The kid assumes it’s because he doesn’t care. There’s nobody to tell him otherwise.  
  
    Or halfway through his shop class when Chucks mental voice comes whispering over his shoulder to send them out on a new mission, creepy as fuck and guaranteed to startle Logan no matter how many times he hears it. It jolts him enough that he accidentally band saws his hand, and then has to deal with a bunch of screaming teenagers (again) until he can make an exit. He ignores them, and the way the smell of blood makes his claws itch under his skin. Growls at everyone he walks past, just to keep them a safe distance away until the feeling passes.  
  
    Or in the middle of the mission Chuck’s sent them out on, when there are explosions going off left and right, all of them threatening to send him right into a flashback that will end with everyone around him hurt, civilian or otherwise. He can’t turn it off, can’t tone down his senses enough to block it out, so all he can try to do is aim his rage in the right direction and hold out, as long as he can.  
  
There are times when Logan’s mutant ‘gifts’ are nothing but a pain in the ass.  
  
But not all the time.   
  
    Like when he gets home, collapsing into one of the porch  chairs out back, so tired he aches all the way down to his metal laced bones. When he hears the noise of the patio door behind him he tenses up all over again, ready to curse out whoever decided it was a good idea to interrupt him, until he recognizes the soft footsteps across the deck. A normal human couldn’t even hear them, but he does, and relaxes as he places the sound. Usually he would have smelled the sulfur right off (makes him sneeze more often then not), but the elf must have showered when they got back. Real considerate of him.   
      
    Logan’s not surprised when a two fingered hand appears over his shoulder, offering up a beer, still cold from the fridge. He takes it, popping the top as Kurt settles in the chair next to him, settling in a companionable silence as they watch the sun set over the trees. He doesn’t say a work even after the light fades and though normal human eyes would have missed it, Logan can still see his fond friends smile in the dark. He smiles back, and turns to watch the fireflies chase each other around the yard, listening to the soothing thrum of friends breathing beside him. It’s steady, and calm, and the rhythm of it sounds like home.  
  
Definitely not all the time. 


	5. Twilight

  
    “Ok, I get the Werewolf thing, but why can’t I wear a shirt?  
  
    From where he was leaning in close to the mirror, carefully applying eyeliner around his eyes, Kurt paused long enough to give Logan an impatient look over his shoulder.  
      
    “Because you’re the kind of Werewolf that runs around shirtless. Now here, put this on” he ordered, tossing Logan a bottle out of the bag he’d come brought from the party store earlier.  
  
    “What the.. body oil? What the hell kind of Werewolf uses body oil? And what kind of Vampire looks like that? That shit is gunna be in your fur for a month.” his shirtless friend protested, gesturing to where Kurt was powdering his cheeks with  a healthy dose of body glitter.  
  
    Kurt ignored his little rant, standing and readjusting his jeans, so tight they looked painted on. Logan had to admit it was a good look for him, but he still didn‘t get it.  
  
    “The kind of Vampire that is definitely going to win the costume contest this year.”  Kurt explained, for the third time, as he grinned and handed Logan the finishing touch, a hand printed Miss America style sash that matched the one he draped over his own shoulder.  
  
    “Oh hell. I am _Not_ wearing this..” Logan protested, even as he followed Kurt to the door, the sounds of the Halloween party echoing up from the commons room downstairs.  
  
    “Yes you are!” Kurt countered cheerful, helping him get it situated over his oiled up pec and ignoring the confused look Logan gave him as he got a good luck at what it said and demanded to know...  
  
    “What the fuck is ‘Team Jakeward‘?!”


	6. Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found a writing prompt table here: http://undefinedromance89.deviantart.com/art/130-Writing-Prompts-81983182 and will be posting up Logurt fills for it.
> 
> No beta, so read at your own risk.

              Neil never thought he’d end up a bad guy.

              Sure, he’d got into trouble back when he was young and stupid, but by his mid-twenties he’d mostly straightened himself out. He hated the job he’d landed as a mall security guard, it didn’t pay worth shit, but at least it was money coming in. He sold a little pot on the side, and between the two he did ok. And he’d quit sleeping around enough to get pretty serious with his girl Brittany, he’d been living with her going on two years now. She hadn’t kicked him out yet, and most the time he liked having her around, so he counted that as a win.

              Overall he thought he had was going pretty good.. right up until Brittany told him she was knocked up. With twins. Then all of a sudden the money he had coming in wasn’t near enough for all the fancy baby shit she insisted they needed. So when her asshole brother Craig, ex-military and obsessed with beer and guns in equal measure, offered to hook him up with some sweet new job he’d found… it was a no brainer.

               When Craig brought him in to the meet the guy in charge and claimed Neil had served with him in Iraq Neil didn’t say a thing, just nodded and signed where they told him. Two weeks later he had a brand new uniform that looked like something out of Call of Duty and a brand new job guarding some research facility in the middle of nowhere, pulling in enough to make Brittany happy and then some.

              As the weeks went on Neil had to admit that for once Craig had done him a solid. The job was easy, as a newbie all he did was patrol the perimeter (for what he had no idea, as there was already a 14 foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire to keep everything out). The guards who had been there a while had shifts down in the labs themselves, but Neil was happy to stay up above. What little he’d seen of the place reminded him of some mad scientist’s lab, and he’d heard some weird shit echoing up through the vents on quiet nights that he’d tried not to think too hard about. He and the other guards weren’t encouraged to ask questions, and hey, he figured it was a paycheck no matter what they did downstairs.

              He was still figuring that a month later when it all went to hell. The place had been busy earlier in the day, they’d got in a few trucks worth of whatever it was the scientists used down below, and though the guards had been doubled because of it everything had quieted down by the time his evening shift rolled around. Neil had been glad for the extra guards company, shooting the shit with the others to make the night go faster. It was one of the others that first noticed the clouds brewing suddenly overhead, having just enough time to comment; “Storm must be coming.” before the shit hit the fan.

              One second the air was clear around them, the next there was lightning everywhere. Not just a few strikes here or there, it was endless, forming a solid war of light across the front of the compound that moved inward…. fast. Neil hurried back, ignoring the other guards barked orders in favor of saving his own hide. Not that the orders made any sense anyway, their shift leader was telling to people to shoot into the damn clouds.

              Neil turned to join the group running back towards the compound, not because he had any intention of guarding the entryways like the others were grouping up to do, but because he figured lightning couldn’t hit you inside a building. He got halfway across the courtyard when the guy in front of him stopped short, sending Neil sprawling back on his ass. From his vantage point on the ground he couldn’t see what had stopped the group, but from somewhere up ahead he heard a dull ‘whumph’ sound, like someone had dropped a sack of flour. It didn’t seem like something that would give a bunch of hard-core marines pause, until the screaming started.

              He scrambled back to his feet, just in time to see something straight out of the worst horror movie he’s ever seen. Out of nowhere a giant black cloud exploded into existence over the thick of the guards and two... things… dropped out of it. One he only gets a glimpse off, a flash of red and way too much blue, and the other... the other dropped into the crowd and starting cutting through them like a living Cuisinart.

              There are guards dropping left and right around him, cut, bleeding, the ones still standing pressed in too close to shoot. And worse yet were the screams of the guys on the ground, as the one with the knives (they looked like knives, but shit, how many did he have!?) wasn’t killing anyone, just cutting them up bad enough they probably wish he had.   

              Some of them tried to fight, others just ran, but the second they turned away from the sharp-edged menace in the middle of them, that thing that had dropped him there in first place popped back into existence, devilish features frightening enough to send them staggering back... right into the guy with the knives.  
Neil spent a few long moments frozen, too horrified to go either way. At least until he realized that the two things attacking them are working in concert, cutting their way through the group without letting any of them retreat back towards the compound. That more than anything got him moving, because a bunch of monsters attacking them was bad enough, but monsters that planned shit was way worse. Shoving his way past one of the few other guards still standing he ran for it, making it as far as the front doors of the compound before he heard that dull whumph noise again behind him and found himself pinned up against the wall, an arm across the back of his neck pinning him in place.  
    

              “And just where do you think you are going little man?” the monster behind him asked, it’s voice sounding strange, and when he caught a look at it out of the corner of his eye he saw it because the thing has fucking fangs. Neil could only stare, too petrified to move. Brittany was right. He’d watched too much porn and now the devil had him. It was all over.  
  

               “Did you think no one would try to stop you? That no one would find out what you have done here?” the thing pinning him demanded, and all Neil could do was shake his head despite the bricks scratching up his face.    
 

              “I haven’t done anything! I’m just a guard, I have no idea what they do inside!” The monster paused, then sounded even more pissed as it repeated,

              “You have no idea??” It spun him around suddenly, wrenching his arm up behind his back so he had a clear view of the courtyard, but no chance to get away.  
  

               What he saw there stopped further protests in his throat. The other guards were either on the ground or had run off, and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was left behind. There was some hot chick in black leather floating down from the sky, another guy made of ice freezing the guards on the ground in place, but even worse than all that weirdness was what he saw coming out of the compound doors.  
  

               They were kids.  
    

              Little kids in those shitty hospital gowns with no backs, at least a dozen of them coming out of the entrance, looking cold and small and scared. Granted, one of them was glowing and another had spikes growing out of his back and arms, but still, they were just little kids. And suddenly all the weird ass shit he'd heard and seen while working there made a lot more sense, and Neil felt like an absolute piece of shit for not noticing earlier.  
    

              “This is what they do inside. They steal away our kind, our children, and torture them down in those labs. And you guards protect them while they do it.”  
Neil was so stunned he barely noticed the thing letting go of his arm. He just stared as a chick that he normally would have thought was hot, and was now just scared shitless of, stepped through the damn wall, holding another little girl in her arms that couldn’t be more the four year old. A little girl who (if you ignore the extra set of arms) was the spitting image of Brittany, and maybe the kids he'd have in a month or so, if he lived through this.

              He was so distracted he didn’t even notice the guy with the knives (Who, thank Christ, must have dropped them at some point) stepping up beside him until he spoke up in growling voice, “This one need taken care of?” While Neil tries not to piss himself with fear, the blue one gave him a long look and then shook his head. “Nien. I don’t think so. I doubt he will be working for such people much longer.” Neil shook his head so fast it made him dizzy.  
  

               “No, no way man. I had no idea, I never knew it was kids. I don't care if they're freaks or not, I wouldn't do shit to any _kids_!” He rambled, only realizing what he'd said when the short one suddenly had his knives back, growing out of his damn hands. This time he’s sure he really is going to piss himself… at least until the blue one took his arm, and popped them out of the world entirely.  
    

              They reappeared somewhere else, and while Neil upchucked his dinner onto the grass the blue one suggested in an icy voice; “Probably should not have used the word ‘freak’ around him, Wolverine doesn’t much like it. Though if you start running now, he might not catch you for a mile or two.”  
    

              He might not have intended to end up one of the bad guys in all this, but Neil was pretty sure the 'Wolverine' guy wasn't big on second chances, so he didn't waste his breath arguing.

 

              He just ran.


End file.
